


triumvir

by Anonymous



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Coercive Non-Con, Dead Duke Do Not Eat, Duke AU, M/M, Or Political Dub-Con, no happy ending as written, not cute not fun not sexy, unedited and uncapitalized and uncomfortable all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: three points make a triangle.three times make a trend.three moves are as bad as a fire.in which karen witnesses a balancing act





	triumvir

**Author's Note:**

> IM SURE ALL OF THESE PEOPLE ARE (A) VERY NICE ACTUALLY AND (B) NOT MEMBERS OF THE PEERAGE SO.

karen was stealing back from the chambers of the contessa when she heard it. 

they had been lavishly fêted, as was the custom, and all parties returned quite early to their accommodations. karen had been dismissed already. if it had been brennan’s turn to host, she wouldn’t have been so lucky—patrick is _ very particular _about his sleeping arrangements—his retainers wouldn’t have a moment of peace sorting out his grace’s sheets and rosewater and things like that. but brian is an excellent host, accommodating to patrick’s whims, and therefore karen was lucky to have an easy evening to herself to enjoy stealing quietly through the castle, un-thought-of and unseen.

in theory. but karen had excellent hearing. and she heard. 

“i apologize for the late hour, i just was overtaken by the need to return to our earlier negotiations.”

“it is well. shall i fetch patrick here, or—?”

“no, we needn’t trouble him. this matter is between us, i should think.” 

she paused and hitched a breath. if the other dukes were _ negotiating _ , here, at night, in secret, that was of the utmost concern. patrick had already made clear before their travels that brennan was amassing too much clout. if brian and brennan were _ conspiring_—brian would never—but—

well. unsuspicious rulers get overthrown. she drew closer. 

“is that all, your grace?” came a third voice, flat, uninterested. 

“yes, daniel, thanks for fetching his grace for me,” brennan’s voice sounded amused. “good night.” 

karen barely had enough time to duck—there was nowhere to hide, out in the hall—daniel would close the door when he withdrew—

“you as well, your grace.” 

she hadn’t made it thus far in the royal retinue, though, by lacking boldness. she darted in and ducked down, made for the first lavish curtain that she saw; brian, could be trusted to have curtains _ everywhere, _and lots of florals. 

she was, apparently, unnoticed in her entry. the room was large, a lavish bedroom much like patrick’s, from what she could see before all she could see was curtain. she wasn’t going to risk peeking her head out to check. she could hear, and that was enough. 

“and have you determined how you will entreat my favor, my dear brian?” 

“i hardly think that—that i need _ entreat_—why _ sir_—” his grace was breathless, trailed off into nothing. 

“if you haven’t any ideas, I have a few suggestions…” 

“bren.” the careful courtly tone frayed now toward familiar. “what are you _ asking. _ ”  
  
“i think you know how important your alliance with me is,” brennan’s tone stayed polished, though, rolling the syllables off his tongue. “how dangerous it would be, just now, for the triumvirate to break. dangerous for _ you_.”

“dangerous for us all,” brian corrected, sharp. “our alliance stands to benefit us. to break it would be a—a mark against honor, as well as—a _ damn fool _idea, brennan—” some steps drew him across the room, sudden, flustered-sounding. “for you as well as me.” 

“i think we both know that we are equals in title only, my dear prince.” shocking, this open mockery while brennan’s tone was still velvety-smooth. “i think you know well that my resources outstrip either of yours.” 

“but not mine and patrick’s together,” brian pushed back. “hence the _ triumvir _part, bren. so stop—” 

a sound of steps. brian kept speaking, though. 

“—stop insinuating, and spit it out, then. what do you want and why do you think i’d ever give it to you.” 

“why did you come to meet with me, then?” brennan’s tone stayed unshakably glossy.

“because i though you might need, like, _ towels, _bren.” 

a sound like a quiet growl. karen didn’t like it. “you take me for a _ fool _then.” movement, not quite a scuffle, but two people certainly, moving across the creaking floor. a sudden caesura of motion with a gasp. 

“i certainly don’t, bren.” 

“then why did you come. i asked for _ you_. i could bang open the door and holler for any of your servants, brian, if i needed towels.” 

“it—it was unusual. but you are my guest. so i came. so if you’re—um, happy with the accommodations, i suppose i’ll go—”

“you’ll _ not_.” 

karen didn’t gasp. she had been in the court since childhood. she had been taught to keep composed. to keep the same distant calm smile in the face of anything, from disputes over livestock to hostage negotiations. her fingers twitched. that’s all. 

she heard a long, steadying breath. “what are you _ asking_, bren.” 

“you’ve been conspiring against me,” brennan hissed. 

“what?” 

“why did you come here, brian. if not for secret meetings, for hidden dalliances, perhaps for whispered plans.” 

“i _ beg _pardon—”

“don’t _ lie_,” he growled. “patrick’s feeding you his little schemes. against me.” 

“bren.” brian’s voice was tight, but well-controlled. “we are _ not_. and i should hardly think he would—i would never—if he proposed—_none _of us should betray the other, bren, that’s the idea. a tie. a standoff. no sub-alliances. no betrayals. equality.” 

“then why was patrick stealing out of your bedchamber last month, after our talks concluded.”

“i certainly—” 

“my servants swear on their lives.” 

“—well they are mist—” 

“there are two answers, brian.” his tone swelled loud, but icy, cut through brian’s protests. “give me one of them. conspiring or copulating.” 

“_neither_,” brian insisted, and it was sharp. believable enough. offended, surprised. breathy, but his tone had already been hushed and sparse, his grace wrong-footed from brennan’s proximity, aggressiveness, his trail of absurd and outrageous and also technically accurate insinuations. 

“bren, your servant is lying. stirring up trouble. on their own accord, or by someone—”

“then i’ll have her head.” 

this snapped-out statement bit the air, the same moment as a sound—a muffled breath, and stumbling. maybe a push. a few footsteps in karen’s direction. 

brennan continued, cold. “i trusted marie, but i cannot have a liar in my court. thank you, your grace. good night.” 

a long beat passed. 

karen was close enough to brian now to hear his uneven breathing. god, she wanted to peek. to see his face. it sounded like maybe brennan had turned away, was pointedly ignoring brian, playing his emotions. maybe karen could risk it. signal to him, maybe. or just see—see if he was conflicted. considering. weighing the danger to himself against this unknown commoner marie— 

“we’re lovers, bren,” he sighed, and karen should have felt betrayal, for patrick’s sake. “your girl saw no duplicity. just two fools.” 

“hah! i _ knew _it.”

steps, again. brennan drew close, maybe, to gloat. 

“i knew it. the way he _ looks _ at you.” a scoff. “like he owns you. does he, brian? lured you to his bed with sweet promises?” 

“no,” brian’s voice was cold. “good night, bren. i’m going.” 

“ah, so i see the _ favors _of the house are only for the most valued allies. that’s all well, then. i see.” 

unmoved by this mockery, his grace moved lightly toward the door. karen held her breath as he passed, but she hardly expected— 

“of course…” brennan drawled 

—his grace must have expected it too. to leave that kind of advantage on the table? brennan would never. would never. 

“of course, conspiracy or no, your unequal loyalties are no less a matter of my concern.” brennan’s voice was back to silky-smooth. “our triumvir could hardly _ bear _the strain of such asymmetry.” 

“what are you asking,” brian said again, quietly. 

“merely for equal consideration with my good friend patrick.” 

brian’s harsh laugh was mostly breath. “bren, i’m not going to fuck you,” he clipped out.

“then you’ve betrayed the spirit of our pact.” brennan’s voice was grand, loud, a proclamation. “the brotherhood is dissolved. seek your alliances elsewhere. with each other, for all i care. i shall do the same. good night.” 

a pause. more breaths. 

“who’ve you got in your pocket, bren.” quiet. calm. a tone tailored to sound almost bored, the driest academic interest. only the best listener would catch the glint of fear embroidered in the hem.

“apparently it’s none of your _ concern_, what allies i might have.” 

“did jenna make you an offer.” 

“of course not. and were she to have, my dear brian, i would most _ certainly _have dismissed it out of hand. per the terms of our arrangement. i am a man of my word.” 

the honeyed tone you’d think would grate, but brian continued to ignore it. “against which of us.” 

“i couldn’t know less what you are talking about.” 

“all she wants is to upset the balance, bren. team up with you, destroy patrick and i, then destroy _ you _.” 

“i need not discuss my plans with you. we are not allies. you do as you will. and so shall i.” 

finally, _ finally_, brian moved, stepped back from the door, so karen felt no longer pressed against him, sensing his every aching breath. 

“please, brennan. reconsider.” 

“as long as things are uneven between us—”

“fine.”

if karen’s breath came heavy, for a second, it hardly counted as a gasp_ . _

“take what you want, then. but don’t pretend that this is—” 

“the same?” a sneer, movement again, that sound of half-a-scuffle.“you _ whore_. don’t tell me patrick is your _ lover_. he owns you like a dog. he might have sweet-talked you first, but don’t pretend you didn’t think of it, when you opened your legs. how much better his standing is than yours. the last time you two locked armies. how he could _ crush _you. how i might let him do it.” 

she bit her lip, prepared to hear— 

brian’s chuckle surprised her. light, airy, as if he’d just lost a game but he’s a sporting fellow. “_language, _bren. so worked up, that he had the idea first? jealousy doesn’t become you.” 

a snort. “i am not _jealous_, brian. just wronged. and i will have my due.” 

“fine, fine, but really, bren—so histrionic_—_shouting? shoving? patrick was, at least, a little more elegant.” 

“yes, always the understated way with him, isn’t it?” his voice was warming, from furious-cold to chiding. “i’m sure he whispered sweet nothings. what did he say.”

“a lot of lovely things,” brian sighed. “and also that simone and he would take me down first.” 

now that was just a _lie_—simone and patrick were currently at each other’s throats —

“unfair,” brennan purred sympathetically, and it...their voices sounded so...it was certain they were touching. that brennan was touching. “simone and he have such a history. how could you hope to compete.” 

“i hardly can compete with patrick alone, dear bren.” his tone was light. “particularly if you decided not to intercede. forgive me, that i thought you mightn’t.”

“brian. i am a man of my word, how many times must i tell you.” silvery, his tone was silvery, and when karen help her breath she imagined that she could hear the brush of clothes and skin. “i would protect you as readily as patrick.” 

“mmm, now _that_ i believe,” brian voiced through, perhaps, a smile. 

“oh! you devil,” brennan laughed. “what a little show of the blushing maiden, that was. did you really think i would believe that you were lovers_? _ that i should just permit my rivals climbing into bed? that you—that _ you_—would be so thoroughly disgusted by my offer?”

“i’m not simpleminded, brennan,” brian’s voice was soft, almost fond. “but one hardly starts a negotiation at the midway point. not my best work, perhaps, but i think i had my moments. got maybe a jot more out of you that you wanted. about the lady jenna.” 

a laugh. “fair, my dear brian. you did lean hard enough to force my hand. did patrick need the same, to confess his secret dealings with simone?”

“a different flavor. but yes, much the same.” 

“your people are lucky for your gifts. such a good nose for self-preservation, haven’t you.” 

“so it would seem,” brian murmured, just on the edge of karen’s hearing. 

the sounds shifted then, still talking but low, soft hums, a stifled _ moan_—and karen felt her stomach seize in terror. she’d heard enough. enough. she had to—to do _ something_— 

a peek. brian shoulders were broad, and his waist was slim, and his skin was creamy-pale, and for a moment it distracted her from her frantic planning.

but okay. no line of sight from the bed not really. so just to listen, and wait ‘til they were— 

god, in bed, yes. okay. it would be a risk, but she would take it. wait, listen, and move, whenever they were most distracted. whenever—_NOW. _

she bolted the two steps to the wooden door, knocked hard, loud, thrice, opened it on the second, slipped through after the third. knocked hard again thrice more, pulling it shut in time with her barbarously noisy banging. god, hopefully they were too distracted to hear the latch. hopefully they hadn’t bolted up fast enough to see. hopefully— 

“_your grace?_” she called, loud, urgent, and resisted the urge to put her ear to the door, to listen for scrambling. “your grace?” 

brennan answered the door. eventually. 

“_what_.” 

karen bowed low, very low. “deepest apologies, your grace. i have been sent most urgently to fetch the Duke of Gilbert and—” 

“you’re patrick’s.” he bit flatly. “aren’t you.” 

“yes your grace, but i was told by a member of your retinue—one daniel, i think—that his grace might be found here—my lord is _ most _particular about his rooms, you see—”

“i see.” 

“i do apologize for the late hour. my lord was _ most _insistent.” she hovered, bent at the waist, trying to sound for all the world like she was horrified by the breach of decorum but, yknow, you do what you’re told.

“i’m sure he was.” 

the beat was long. his breathing was heavy. she had no plan for if—

“well then.” she dared a glance up. his face was composed. “brian, perhaps you should tend to your other guest's...needs. i certainly should never wish dear patrick to go without.” 

“let me speak with her,” came brian’s voice, and then came brian himself, now clothed and calm, though with a hint of color. 

“your grace,” karen bowed again, and couldn’t think of what else to say. 

“good evening, karen,” brian replied easily, leaned against the doorframe. “what’s patrick on about now.” 

“he most urgently requested your presence, sir.” 

his face, when she glanced up, was nothing but put-upon. “if this is about the rosewater again—”

“apologies, your grace.” karen said, and nothing more. “i don’t know.”

he just looked at her, a long moment, and then smiled. “tell patrick to be patient, then. i’ll come presently. within the hour, i should think. and good night to you, karen.” 

with that, he firmly shut the door. 

* * *

running is generally discouraged in court, as is entering the duke’s sleeping chambers without permission, as is gasping out a breathy shout to wake him rudely. 

but karen thought patrick might forgive her, just this once.

**Author's Note:**

> choose your own ending adventure, kids. bittersweet aftercare? swashbuckling rescue? tragic betrayal? the author is dead. and also deeply sorry about this one.
> 
> \- fish, who wrote this while asleep and thus cannot be held responsible for it, right?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [risk • trust • betrayal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032841) by [spaceegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceegirl/pseuds/spaceegirl)


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